


Hard drinkin' on the hardware store

by WittyWallflower



Category: Hart of Dixie
Genre: Bonding, Drinking & Talking, Earl Kinsella deserved better, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower
Summary: One month Wade isn't available when Earl's government check comes in. Someone else has to talk Earl down from the rooftop.





	1. Chapter 1

Zoe Hart completed her third lap of what passed for a liquor store in Bluebell. What she really wanted was a bottle of cool, crisp Chenin Blanc to drown her sorrows in. But the small wine selection in this tiny Alabama town left a lot to be desired. A few shelves tucked back in one corner of a store dominated by beer cases stacked in the shape of the Crimson Tide logo and bottles of actual moonshine larger than her head. She wasn’t quite ready to resort to the box wine again. That hadn’t turned out well the first time around and she hardy needed a repeat of the myriad embarrassments of that night.

She sighed heavily, blowing her bangs out of her face, and settled on a bottle of homemade peach wine made from locally grown fruit. The label on the bottle looked decidedly DIY. Quite a step down from the stuff her mother bought: imported from France, bottled by vineyards every wine connoisseur knew the name of. Still this bottle couldn’t be any worse than a box of Franzia. And it was probably a lot safer for her reputation.  
  
She turned to head to the register to make her purchase and caught the young employee behind the counter staring at her. He was the only towns-person she had seen since mid-afternoon. She’d had no patients since 2:30 and Addy had left for the day shortly after. After puttering around bored for the rest of her office hours, she had locked up and headed out to find the town deserted. No one on the streets, no one in the stores, no one getting a sweet tea fix at the bakery. She hadn't seen a single person until she walked into the liquor store and she’d guess that lone employee hadn’t had much company either. He certainly looked starved for conversation.  
  
Another sigh and she reached out to wrap her other hand around a second bottle. What the heck. Why not? Its not like she had plans tonight. Even if she wanted to make some, everyone was at the party. Everyone except her, and the young guy smiling eagerly at her as she approached his register. He was practically dancing in anticipation of her arrival at his register. There went any hope Zoe had of escaping with less than ten minutes of small talk and pleasantries. Sure it was nice that Bluebell was so friendly, but sometimes a girl just wanted to run a quick errand in peace.  
  
“Evening, Doctor Hart.” the young man’s smile was warm and sincere, full of open friendship and Southern hospitality. That was hard to get used to. In New York no one smiled like that unless they wanted something from you. And most guys approached her with much sleazier smiles.  
  
“Hi there… I’m sorry, I think I forgot your name?” Zoe responded. What? Sure Bluebell may be a small town, but its still a lot of people to remember.  
  
“Oh I haven't had the pleasure of being introduced yet but your reputation proceeds you.” Before she could wonder if that was a good thing or a bad thing he extended a hand across the counter. “Name’s Jon, Jon Long.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Jon Long.” Zoe shook his hand. “Long, hmm? This being such a small town I imagine…”  
  
He smiled, following her train of thought, and began to ring up her up and bag her bottles.  
  
“Tom Long’s my cousin. He’s the first that told me you came to town.” he said. As she handed him a few bills she noticed the resemblance. Jon didn't quite have Tom’s baby-face but if all the Long men had that same smile, she wouldn't have any trouble recognizing them. He handed back her change. “‘Course, the way this town gossips, I’d have heard it before long anyway.”  
  
“This town does love to know everything about its neighbors. Its kinda nice though. My neighbor back in New York wouldn’t know me if I threw the newspaper he was always stealing from me at his head.” Zoe did not miss the greasy Wall Street suit-wearing Gordon-Gecko wannabe that stole her paper, stumbled home with bimbos at 4am on the weekends, and stunk up the elevator with his over-priced cologne. 

Tom chuckled and shook his head. Boy, sure sounded like the TV was right about New Yorkers being less than friendly folk. The Longs rarely left Alabama and when they did the still never ventured north of the Mason-Dixon line. 

  
They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Zoe grabbed her bag and started sidling towards the door. Jon was just as nice as Tom, but she had pressing business waiting at the bottom of a wine glass and standing around here, sober, wasn't going to get it done.  
  
“It was real nice to meet you, Jon, I’m sure I’ll see you around.” she called over her shoulder on her way out. “Try not to get too bored tonight.”  
  
“Bit late for that,” his chuckle reached her as she stepped onto the sidewalk “I might close up a bit early. Haven’t had any customers since my shift started except you and Crazy Earl. “  
  
Zoe stopped in her tracks on the sidewalk outside.

Oh no. 

Earl.


	2. Chapter 2

Her breath was labored and she had a stitch in her side by the time she got to the town square. It wasn’t far but sprinting in 5 inch heels was better cardio than an Tae Bo class. She teetered to a halt in front of the hardware store and scanned the roof. There was the sight she had been fearing to see. Earl on the roof, no Wade up there to sing him down, no townspeople watching from below. Everyone was at Magnolia Breeland’s birthday party. Everyone except her and Jon Long… and Crazy Earl.

Zoe immediately reached for her phone. She hadn't spoken to Wade since their last shouting match. It had been such a knock-down, drag-out fight that Wade had left town for a few days on an extended supply run. She was prepared to swallow her pride and be the first one to reach out to him because this was his father but… Wade was gone. Even if he answered the phone, even if he didn’t send her straight to voicemail, he was still out of town. He couldn’t come get Earl and would probably go out of his mind worrying while he raced home. It wouldn't do any good making Wade worry, it wouldn't solve the problem. The problem right now was getting Earl down from the roof. In one piece.

“Hey, Earl?” Zoe called softly through the southern night. She didn’t want to startle the man sitting on the edge of the rooftop, didn’t want to make him fall. “Its Dr. Hart. Would it be alright if I come up?”

He didn’t answer but she thought she saw him nod in the twilight gloom. Well, she was going up there whether he had nodded or not. Someone had to help him, she decided as she walked around to the side of the building. She could climb the open gate to reach the metal ladder fixed to the side of the building just out of her reach but first she had to stop the gate from swinging. 

Zoe searched the alleyway but of course this was Bluebell. There was no convenient trashcan or pile of refuse or even a good sized rock to be seen. She had a strong suspicion this back alley was swept regularly despite never seeing so much as a gum wrapper blow through. There was no choice for it so Zoe dug out one of the bottles she had purchased and managed to wedge it carefully beneath the gate. There. Zoe wasn’t concerned about sacrificing the twelve dollar bottle of peach wine but man, she really hoped it held long enough for her to get to where she needed to be.

A few heart-stopping moments later Zoe had reached the roof. As she crossed to the where Earl sat, she willed her heart-rate to return to normal. It was only 2 stories after all. Back in New York she had never lived below the 8th floor of any building in her life. She often lived and worked in high rises where people on the street below were so far away they looked like ants. Of course, she hadn’t been climbing those buildings from the outside.

“Hi, Earl,” Zoe felt suddenly extremely anxious and awkward. What do you even say to make a man decide not to jump off a roof? Her psych rotation had been an exercise in frustration she had to suffer through before she was allowed to become a surgeon and start cutting into things. She was good with a scalpel, not with talk therapy. And she barely knew Earl. But she had to try. “Umm… so, nice night, isn’t it?”

Earl released a raspy chuckle at that. The pretty doctor may know everything about stitching wounds and setting bones but she wasn’t real smart about people. 

“Hmm,” he murmured by way of response. “Nice enough. Real quiet though.”

“Oh yeah, um. There’s a big party at the Breelands'. Magnolia’s birthday or something. I guess she said she wanted to have the biggest party in the county. Brick’s been begging and blackmailing everyone in town for weeks to make sure they attend.” Everyone except Zoe. And Earl, apparently.

Earl nodded. He meant for it to look philosophical, accepting. To Zoe it just looked sad. She wasn’t sure what to do for him. Zoe understood quite well why her presence had not been requested. But Earl was part of the town. Bluebell didn't turn its back on Lemon when she was Mean Girl, or on Wade when he was a man slut, it honestly surprised her that they would exclude Earl for having an actual addiction. The town seemed more tight-knit than to reject someone who needed their help. 

“Haven’t been to a party in quite a while.” he offered. “Got invited to plenty after my wife passed. But either I didn’t show up or I showed up drunk. After a while, people stopped invitin’ me to their gatherings.” A wheezy, mirthless laugh tried to make it seem like he didn’t mind. “No one wants Crazy Earl around to ruin things.”

That kinda talk only seemed to bring down people’s pity on him. That, or their blame as they told him it was his own fault for not acting like a decent person who was fit to be around. He was used to pity and he was used to scorn but Earl wasn’t sure which he’d get from this stranger lady. But he got neither, which was kinda refreshing. And the silence stretched until finally he broke it. 

“Why aren't you over at the big to-do, then?” He asked. 

“Turns out, no one wants me around either.” she answered blithely. 

Zoe knew it wasn’t exactly true. She had made friends in Bluebell, and there were plenty of patients who would be perfectly cordial to her when they encountered her. But she knew she wasn’t truly accepted in this town, wasn’t the pillar of community her real father had been. 

Even if Brick wasn’t anxious to see the backside of Zoe as she left town, and even if Magnolia wasn’t entirely indifferent to Zoe's existence, Lemon’s active dislike for her would have prevented Dr Hart from receiving one of the etched invitations. Rose had shown off the one she got. Gold ink calligraphy on embossed paper the same pale pink as the underside of a magnolia blossom. Well, the Breelands certainly did have taste, even if it was wasted on a 15 year old brat's birthday party. 

Earl craned around to look at Zoe for the first time since her arrival. Poor gal looked like a kicked puppy. If puppies wore short shorts and them crazy shoes that made her half a foot taller. And carried a bag from the local off-sale.

“That for me?” He asked, more for conversation than anything else. He wasn’t so sorry for himself he’d go begging liquor from Wade’s doctor lady neighbor.

“Oh. No.” Zoe had forgotten all about the second bottle. She had no memory of climbing the ladder with the handles of the bag clutched in her white-knuckled fingers. It probably would have been an easier climb if she’d left the bottle on the ground with its mate, but rational thought had stopped when she saw Earl on the roof. She pulled the bottle within from its bag, displaying the rather feminine and floral looking label. No one was mistaking _this_ for whiskey. “Its… for me.”

Earl didn’t needn’t need to be told what it was for or why she’d lugged it up to the roof. Drowning sorrows is the thing Earl Kinsella does best and he can spot a kindred spirit a mile away. It was a shame to see such a young, smart, pretty gal brought low enough to bury her misery in a bottle. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he patted the rooftop beside him. “You sit down here and don't be shy. Best view of the whole town to drink to.” 

He spread his arms wide as he looked out over Bluebell. The small town didn’t exactly present a stunning skyline view, but the quiet humid peace of the summer night was calming to a troubled soul, he thought. Lord knows he didn't have much wisdom to offer the girl, but he could offer her this: the best source of peace he knew how to find. 

Zoe hesitated long enough for him to glance back at her again.

“Actually could we… maybe sit down over here?” Zoe waved a hand in the general direction of anywhere that wasn’t the edge of the roof. Earl’s eyebrows began to lower in a frown but she hurried on. “I’m a little afraid of heights.”

The fib came easy and was effective. Earl may be disreputable but liquor hadn't killed the exaggerate courtesy which a Southern gentleman was expected to offer a lady. He started to rise but he saw Zoe tense. No sense in scaring the girl, he decided, scooting backwards on his butt till his shoulders rested against a pipe protruding from the roof. He was a few feet from the edge now, apparently enough for Zoe because she took a seat beside him. 

The bag crinkled again and he heard a scoff. Zoe held the bottle up so the glow from the streetlight caught it more clearly. 

“The _one_ bottle I’ve bought in this state that didn’t have a twist top. Because of COURSE.” Her tone was much put-upon, heavy with annoyance and more self-pity than the situation deserved. 

Well now, that Earl could help with. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a Swiss army knife. Zoe was a little surprised when he passed it over but pulled out the corkscrew and got to work. When she folded it up again her finger brushed over a groove the outside. Peering closely she saw a pair of initials crudely carved into the red plastic. W.K. The letters were blocky and juvenile and Zoe wondered how long Earl had been holding on to that pocket knife. But she didn’t ask, just passed it back and took a mouthful straight from her bottle. 

They sat in companionable silence for a spell. Nothing but a warm wisp of a gulf breeze and the chirp of cicadas disturbed the peaceful night. Earl wasn’t real used to company these days, especially not young ladies with a lot on their minds, so he wasn’t real sure what to say. Zoe, in between swigs of wine, was all wrapped up in her head. Thoughts about Alabama, thoughts about New York. Wondering how she could stay when it was such a disaster, knowing she didn't have a choice if she wanted to be a surgeon. 

Part of her wanted to cut and run, just like her (step)father had when he walked out on Zoe and her Mom. But another part of her, probably inherited from her mother, was too stubborn to let anything beat her, least of all a bunch of Southern xenophobes who can’t even appreciate the necessity of a decent bagel and shmear. And a tiny part of her she didn't want to admit to, one most definitely bequeathed her by her late biological father, felt the pull of wanting to belong to the community, to be a part of it all.

Despite the fact that she never wanted to come, and the fact that she wasn’t comfortable here, Zoe could tell Bluebell was special. It was so tight-knit. Everyone know everyone else’s business and lent a hand whenever anyone needed it. It made her remember the time she had been rushing to catch the elevator in her building and her neighbor couldn't be bothered to look up from his cell phone long enough to press the Door Hold button to give her the 5 seconds she needed to make it. She’d rolled her ankle walking down the stairs from the 12th floor, spilling coffee all over her blouse and scuffing her only-two-week-old Miu Miu pumps. And she had still been late that day! 

But you know what? she thought as she took another large and rather unladylike guzzle, at least New York treated everyone the same. Everyone was a cold uncaring stranger to everyone else. Unlike Bluebell, the warmest friendliest sunniest small town, open arms to everyone… unless your name was Zoe Hart. Then Bluebell didn’t welcome you in with smiles and a slice of cherry pie. No, then Bluebell stared at you and whispered behind your back and judged your clothing and treated you like a harlot for making the very reasonable mistake of being attracted to a good looking smart and funny guy because you just didn’t know he was engaged until it was too late and **I HATE Bluebell, Alabama!!** Her mental rant rose to an angry holler inside her head.

She sighed, having managed to work herself from self-pitying to royally peeved in a single internal monologue, and took another pull at her bottle, grimacing as she wiped stray drops off her chin. Was the alcohol getting to her or was this homemade peach crap really not that bad? Man, she really wasn't going to endear herself to the town by calling this wine made by a beloved local 'crap'. But how does one even go about making an entire town of Southerners like you, anyway? How many "bless your heart"s could a girl take before she should just give up?


	3. Chapter 3

The night air closed in around her and Zoe let it the dark cloak of night cover her unhappiness for a moment. Like a blanket pulled up over her head to shut out the world.

“Hey Earl,” she finally spoke up a few minutes later. “What’s it like?”

He waited silently for her to elaborate. Earl knew from extensive personal experience that a drunk with something to say would explain themself unprompted.

Zoe sighed, because she didn’t really hate Bluebell. She hated that she wasn’t a part of it. And she kind of hated herself for feeling that way because she had gotten along just fine in life without a group of pushy busybodies interfering in all her business. Nobody had this sort of life back in New York. So why did she want it now?

“What’s it like… being a part of the town? Being included in stuff and having everyone care about you?” Zoe asked.

“Don’t know if I even remember. Its been a long time since that was the case for me.” Earl said.

Zoe was confused. “What do you mean? Of course you’re part of the town. You’ve lived here forever, people care about you. I witness an entire bar full of people leave theirs drinks and the best po’boys this side of Mobile Bay to come sing to you, Earl. And when that Max kid decided he was in love with me, you were right there with everyone dancing in that flash mob in the Rammer Jammer!”

Earl couldn't help but grin. Hell, he’d nearly forgotten all about that. That Max kid had been relentless in getting the townspeople to participate. Zoe, just this side of tipsy, could finally appreciate the humor of that whole situation. Now that Rose’s heart, the big game, and Zoe’s reputation with the town were no longer at stake it was easy to chuckle about it. It had been a truly unique experience in her life, a experience she could only have had in Bluebell.

“What in the world possessed so many people to encourage him and go along with what was clearly a very elaborate and detailed plan." she had to ask "With choreography! He’s way too young for me! What were you all thinking?!”

“Well, now. I was thinking how it was real romantic. And I figure every woman deserves to have a moment like that, a big gesture like in the movies… even if its not from her soulmate.” Earl philosophized.

“Why, Earl Kinsella. You’re a true Southern gentleman.” Zoe said. Even the scruffiest of men in Bluebell had romantic hearts, it seemed.

Earl wheezed out a raspy laugh at that, but he wasn’t about to divert a nice conversation with denials. He was no gentleman. A gentleman was supposed to carry his liquor with class, getting sloppy drunk only in private where polite society was none the wiser. If he was really a gentleman, Earl wouldn’t be a burden on his son and the town, unable to face his demons without the liquid courage that made him so troublesome.

“Wade tell you much about his mother?” He asked.

Earl didn't wait for a response because he knew Wade had not. No one spoke much of Jackie. Sometimes it felt like a blessing, not to be faced with constant reminders of her and how far he had fallen without her. Other times, like right now, it felt like a damn crying shame.

“The woman could not carry a tune in a bucket but she loved music. Always hummin’, whistlin’, and her tone deaf. She didn't give a lick about what anyone thought though. She’d walk down the street singing to herself if she had a tune in her head that just wouldn't leave her alone.”

Earl paused to remember, a little confused when the remembering didn’t hurt as much as it should. He remembered his late wife, before she became Jackie Kinsella, strolling through the town square and singing that silly pina colada song. He’d watched her from the gazebo and decided that day he was going to make her his own.

“Looks like she passed that love on to Wade.” Zoe’s voice was soft. “He spends more time with his guitar than most guys spend with their girlfriends.” Well, it was kinda true. He played gigs, rehearsed with his various bands and in his downtime it was about 50/50 whether he’d be playing guitar or playing video games.

“The love might have came from her but any talent came from me.”

“You, Earl?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s how I won her heart, don’t you know?” Earl beamed with remembered pride "It was the annual Bluebell talent show when I sang her favorite song for her. Thankfully she wasn’t trying to inflict her singing on the town then, or she would have been backstage and never seen me perform that night.”

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Zoe didn’t know much about Earl in general. Wade never talked about him if he could help it. She could understand being embarrassed by one’s parent. She herself never mentioned her mom and dad until forced to. But sometimes it seems like the rest of the town let themselves forget about Earl’s existence when he wasn't around. A man deserved more than that. 

“Voice ain’t worth much now, I admit.” said Earl. "Too much whiskey and too little practice. I doubt I could make it through a verse without it crackin’ and raspin’. But I used to sing all the time to Jackie and the boys.”

As Zoe finished her wine, Earl reminisced about the past. He told her about family road trips to Tallahassee or New Orleans in a truck with a broken radio that only picked up the occasional AM band. They’d made their own music, belting out lyrics to popular songs with the windows rolled down and the wind blowing through the cab. The boys would make up songs or teach their parents the silly joke versions of well-known ditties that kids always seemed to invent.

It had been so long since Earl thought about those trips. When the booze haze parted enough for him to recall them, his dark moods usually summoned up the bad memories. The flat tires, being $5 short for their meal at a roadside diner, sleeping in the bed of the pickup truck because the motel had lost their reservation. But looking back now, even those mishaps had been adventures at the time. Jackie had had a way of turning any problem on its tail and making it a positive. Earl wish he had learned the trick of that from her before she died.

Maybe he would have survived her loss a little better. Not turned in to such a mess.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Wade scrubbed at his face with one hand then shoved his fingers through his hair, nearly vibrating with worry and impatience. He was still a ways out from Bluebell, barely resisting the urge to floor the gas and show even less regard than usual for posted speed limits. He would never forgive himself if Earl got hurt because Wade had gotten so distracted in his anger that he hadn't even thought about the date before he blew out of town. He hadn’t been able to get a hold of anyone on his phone before it died. Probably at that Breeland party. Avoiding an invitation from Magnolia, along with avoiding Zoe Hart, was all the incentive he had needed to cut and run.

Wade tried to tell himself that Earl would be okay. He’d be fine. The crazy coot never had any intention of jumping. He just needed the attention, to be reminded that he hadn’t been forgotten about and that people still cared. Nah, Earl wasn’t much of a threat to himself really.

But if he was stumbling drunk, well, he could trip and fall right off the roof. The hardware store roof wasn’t really high enough to be fatal, but if anyone could find a way to break their fool neck it was Earl. Who knows how long he'd be laying there on the sidewalk; it could be hours before the party let out.  
  
Wade sighed his agitation and gripped the steering wheel tighter in white-knuckled hands.   
  


 

* * *

 

  
  
Earl’s stories faded out about the time they ran out of alcohol. After Zoe finished the bottle of wine (made by Shula if he remembered right. it wasn’t bad. a bit sweet for sipping but tasted like summer), Earl had produced a small half-empty bottle of whiskey from his back pocket. He usually nursed it while he sat on the roof, but since the doctor lady had showed up he’d kinda forgotten about it. Wasn’t like him to forget about his liquor. When she had tried a second time to take a drink of the long-empty wine, he’d passed the whiskey over to her. She had grimaced terribly at the taste but that hadn’t stopped her for reaching for it every so often.  
  
Earl didn’t feel the need just now. So he let her finish it while they exchanged stories. In the dark, distracted by her own thoughts, Zoe didn’t notice she was the only one polishing off the bottle. When she realized it was empty, she tilted her head back and regarded the stars overhead.  
  
All was quiet again. A lazy cricket chirped in the distance but the breeze had died and was no longer sighing through the leaves of the trees.   
  
Soon Earl shifted besides her, groaning under his breath as he climbed to his feet. He extended a hand to help Zoe up.  
  
“C’mon, Doc Hart, we better get ourselves down while we can still manage it without breaking our necks.”   
  
She was glad for his hand when she stood and wavered on her feet. With less liquor in her she might have thought to take off her shoes. But if she could navigate New York drunk in 5 inch heels, Bluebell should be a piece of cake. She didn’t doubt that when they made their way to the ladder she had climbed to reach the rooftop. She didn’t doubt as she tossed the empty whiskey bottle over her shoulder and swung herself on to the metal rungs. In fact, she had no second thoughts at all until she reached the last rung on the ladder and realized she was still several feet above the ground.   
  
“Umm… Earl?” she called down behind her.  
  
There was a shuffle, then Earl appeared below her. Zoe could see his earnest face squinting up at her when she looked down between her feet. He raised his arms up to her.  
  
“You shimmy down low as you can go now, Doc.” Earl sounded just like Wade when he called her that. “I’ll grab holda ya.”   
  
She took a deep breath and steeled herself to remove her feet from the ladder. Slowly, torturously, she inched her way down the ladder until she was hanging from the bottom rung. Her arms shook with the effort to hold her own slight body weight and the metal bar was digging in to her palms. Then digging in to her fingers as her hands began to slip. Zoe was grateful to feel Earl’s hands grip her hips, supporting her weight enough that she could get a firm grip back.  
  
“I gotcha, Doc. You’re only a few feet from the ground now. Ain't hardly a drop at all.”   
  
Earl’s whiskey-roughened voice was making a passable attempt at soothing her. Zoe remembered her fib about being afraid of heights. Well, at least she didn't feel guilty for lying because right now it felt kinda true.   
  
“You let go of that ladder and I’ll make sure you don't come down too fast or too hard.” Earl assured her. He wasn’t about to let the doctor lady break her neck under his watch; another case of Crazy Early making a mess.   
  
Zoe knew her feet couldn't be even three feet in the air but it looked farther with the wine-and-whiskey goggles. Earl’s grip felt secure but lets face it: Earl is kinda old. And kinda skinny. And years of alcoholism and poor nutrition meant his bones were probably brittle. Really, she was more worried about hurting him than getting hurt herself. But she knew a Southern gentleman’s sense of chivalry by now; Earl would never step back and let her jump down unassisted, even if Zoe could manage to talk herself into it. And she didn't trust her now-numb fingers to hold her up long enough for Earl to find help or a stepladder.  
  
  
So Zoe adjusted her grip one last time, glanced down to check her landing space, took a breath to brace herself…. and let go.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Tires screeched against the pavement as Wade's truck slammed to a stop outside the hardware store. The fact that there was no crumpled form on the sidewalk in front was a relief to Wade. At least he felt like he could breathe again. But he was still worried. There was still a lot of trouble Earl could have gotten himself into.

"Earl? Hey, EARL!" He yelled up towards the rooftop as he jumped out of the truck.

There was no response. When he looked up, he couldn't see any movement or human-shaped shadows up there. Earl might not be up there. Or he might be passed out inches from the edge, ready to roll off in his sleep. Quickly, Wade jogged around to the side of the building. He didn't slow his pace even for a step as he charged towards the ladder of the fire escape. With a leap, he kicked off the wall and got enough height to grab the bottom rung. He pulled himself up hand over hand until his feet could reach the ladder.

But the climb was for nothing. There was no Earl on the rooftop. If not for a pile of shattered glass, just about the right amount of shards to make up a bottle, there would be no sign Crazy Earl had ever been on the rooftop. But he obviously had, Wade cursed as he scuffed a boot through the broken glass. Hopefully Earl hadn't sliced himself up on that. But as Wade descended back to the street, he didn't see at blood on the ladder or the ground in the alley. That was a good sign, at least.

If Earl HAD been hurt, there was only one place he would be. Wade's next stop was the doctor's office. Zoe was on call tonight and she wouldn't waste time in getting her patient back to her practice. But the building was dark and empty. Wade reasoned with himself that this was another good sign that Earl was not injured, but he knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he saw his father for himself.

Driving by the liquor store, Wade saw the storefront as dark and abandoned as the medical practice had been. He wasn't surprised to see the store had closed early. He'd be a little surprised they had anything left to sell after all the booze Doc Breeland had purchased for the party. Wade wondered if Earl had made it there before Jon Long had closed the place down.

Wade then stopped by the Breeland party to see if Earl had crashed it for the free drinks and barely managed to escape before Magnolia the birthday girl attached herself to him. He'd managed to find Lavon who reported no sign of Crazy Earl that night. The mayor been there most of the evening, or as Lavon had said, he had been there for 4 beers and 3 of the pink signature cocktails created for the party that had been dubbed 'Magnolia Bombs'.

Wade was on his way home to check the gatehouse when he came upon two people walking along the dark road. Well, one person was walking, he saw as he drew nearer and his headlights picked them up, the other was clinging to the one's back like a spider monkey. And judging by those tiny shorts, that someone was Zoe Hart.

Through the pickup truck's window, open in the sultry summer night, he could hear them now over the sound of his tires crunching on the gravel. The sound of singing faintly reached his ears and it was a verse from a familiar song.

"Two drifters, off to see the world," Two voices warbled, "There's such a lot of world to see…"

When he pulled alongside them, he recognized who Zoe was riding piggyback on. Given what he had just heard, it wasn't much of a surprise to see the other half of the duet was Earl. Pulling his truck over a few yards ahead of them, Wade hopped out of his trek and met them.

"Hey, Wade!" Zoe beamed at him.

The sunny enthusiasm in her greeting when she saw him was confusing, considering the fact that they had been screaming insults the last time they had seen each other. But when Earl set her down and she tottered it made a little more sense.

Zoe Hart was drunk; pickled as a pig's foot. And walking the same road he'd found her drunk on the last time, when he'd almost managed to talk her into a one night stand.

His previous irritation with her, both for the fight they had had and for the rejection she had given him back them, had been forgotten in his worry about Earl. Now it came roaring back and he had to bite his cheek to stop himself from going off on her. His alcoholic father did not need a drinking buddy! She was a doctor, she should know better! Enabling, isn't that what they call it? And suppose something happened to Earl and she couldn't treat him? Or to anyone else, for that matter. Apparently every doctor in town was currently hammered.

Earl was bent over with his hands on his knees, puffing a bit. The lady doctor was a tiny thing, but he wasn't in as good shape as he had been when he was young. Glancing up, he recognized the anger on his son's face and straightened to face him. Unknown to Zoe, a battle of wills raged in the gaze the two men shared before Wade swallowed the words he wanted to holler at the both of them and capitulated with a shake of his head.

"Come on, I'll drive you both home." Wade snagged Zoe's hand to lead her to the truck but she quickly pulled away with a cry.

"Ow!" Zoe winced and stumbled.

She had instinctively moved to follow Wade, forgetting in her drunken haze about the pain in her ankle until one step had sent it stabbing through her more fiercely than before. She concentrated on not crumpling to the ground and put a hand on Earl's shoulder for balance while she shifted her weight off her injured leg.

Taking a closer look, Wade realized Zoe was significantly shorter than usual due to being barefoot. Her sky-high heels were lashed to a belt loop by their ankle straps. Wade could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Zoe outside of the house without her overpriced designer stilts.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Just a little mishap is all," Earl tried to reassure his son, "After we came down from the roof-"

"You climbed down from the roof by yourselves in the state you two are in?!" Wade cut him off, angry again. This night was doing his blood pressure no favors "What the hell were you thinking, Earl? Either one of you could have broken your neck!"

"Relax, Waaade." Gone was the Zoe who had been astonishingly happy to see him. This Zoe Hart stretched out his name with a snide tone meant to rankle. "I didn't fall off the roof. Or even the ladder leading from the roof."

"Then what the hell happened?" Wade snapped.

"I fell off the curb leading to the sidewalk outside the hardware store." In her drunken self-assurance, Zoe made it sound like it was the most obvious thing the world. "I twisted my ankle and I fell and I banged my elbow."

She held up the offending arm, bent so he could see an abrasion on her elbow. It was dark on the road under the trees but still the red mark stood out against her tan. She had definitely scraped off a few layers of skin. Hopefully her damn ankle wasn't broken instead of sprained. The woman was not the least bit fazed, not even a _little_ embarrassed to be betrayed by her own stupid shoes.

"Its okay though," she rambled on, "Earl kissed it better and offered to carry me home."

Wade honestly didn't know how to respond to that. Earl just shrugged and nodded confirmation. Wade settled for scooping Zoe up off her feet and carrying her to the truck. She fumbled the passenger door open so he could tuck her inside. When Earl joined them the bench seat was crowded with Zoe squished in the middle. Pressed up against his side, Wade noticed she smelled like peaches… and whiskey.

The ride was silent. Wade was waiting to yell at them when they were sober enough to remember it, Earl was trying not to annoy his son more than Wade was already peeved, and Zoe was nodding off to the gentle bump and sway of the truck. By the time they reached Earl's house, Zoe was dozing with her head lolling back against the seat.

"Take care of her." Earl shot Wade a pointed look. "Get her home and tucked into bed safe."

What else did his father think Wade would do?

"Goodnight Earl." was all he said as his father quietly closed the car door.

Zoe didn't wake but when he set the vehicle in motion again, her head slumped down until it was resting on his shoulder. He could feel her cheek awkwardly pressed against the boniest part. When they hit the gravel roads near home, she'd bruise herself bumping against him there. With a sigh, he lifted his arm around her, settling her more comfortably against his chest. She snuggled into him with a sleepy murmur.

Wade stayed below the speed limit all the way back to the plantation.


	6. Chapter 6

Zoe trudged, or rather limped, into the kitchen of the plantation house looking exactly as bad as she felt. Without a word of good morning, she pulled herself up onto a stool before putting her head in her hands, propping herself up on her elbows so she didn’t ooze onto the floor. 

Wade grinned around his food, taking in her obvious discomfort with no small amount of amusement. He’d laugh if his mouth wasn't full of grapes. Her hair was sticking up on one side, her face devoid of its usual makeup, and he wondered if she realized she had buttoned her shirt wrong. 

Zoe could sense Wade’s smug desire to run his mouth but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her head felt like like a beer can being crushed again some redneck’s forehead and her mouth was drier than that time she’d tried to bake homemade buttermilk biscuits (failing majorly. flames were involved.) and it tasted even worse. But she hadn't been able to face the thought of her cinnamon toothpaste. 

 

“Hey Zoe," Wade said casually, as if he hadn't just watched her shamble in like a reanimated corpse "Doc Breeland wanted me to remind you that you have the morning shift at the practice today.” 

Zoe groaned and slumped forward, burying her head in her arms on the countertop. Maybe she could open the practice late just this once. There were no appointments until afternoon, and everyone would be at home recovering from the party instead of going out and getting hurt. Besides every resident in town had her number programmed into their phone in case of emergencies. It had been a whole thing at one of the town meetings shortly after Brick actually let her into the practice. So Zoe could probably get away with playing hooky for a bit. She was seriously contemplating letting herself give in to the oblivion of sleep when there was a clink near her head. Looking up she saw a glass and plate Wade had placed in front of her. 

“Secret Kinsella hangover cure.” Wade explained. “It will make you feel better. Scout’s honor.” 

Zoe eyed him dubiously, wanting to remind him he had dropped out of Scouts after like a day. The beverage looked like a glass of milky bloody snot. That thought made her stomach react with decided queasiness and she pushed the offerings away, even though the plate contained a pretty normal looking sandwich.

“Come on Doc, take your medicine.” Wade prompted her. He stepped closer, sliding the glass into her hand. 

She huffed a sigh that blew her bangs out of her face. Swear to god, if this was a prank just to get her to drink something horrible, she was going to kill him. She was a surgeon, she could cut him into so many tiny pieces they would never be able to find enough to identify his body. 

With a deep breath to psych herself up, she lifted the glass to her lips and sucked the noxious contents back. Knowing she wouldn't be this stupid again for a second drink, she forced herself to keep guzzling until she had downed half of it. She slammed the glass down and flapped her hands in the air while her face made all sorts of grimaces Wade found pretty damn funny. 

“Oh my god, Wade!” Zoe complained. “That was probably the worst experience of my life. What is in- is that Pepto?!“

She cut herself off with a hand to her lips. Okay, she was definitely going to vomit. Zoe closed her eyes and willed herself not to spew. She could not imagine how awful it would taste on the way back up. 

To her surprise the nausea passed within moments. She slowly lowered her hand in case the urge to puke returned but she soon relaxed, as did the worst of the aching throb in her head. The drink had done nothing to improve the taste on her mouth, but it had provided a bit of hydration. Overall she felt better than expected. At least better than she had 5 minutes ago. Well enough to take a second considering look at the bacon sandwich she had shoved away.

Wade laughed and slid the plate back to her. 

“See? Perfect cure for what ails ya. First it makes you think you’re gonna hork, but then you start to feel almost normal. The sandwich will help ya get there. By the time you get to work, you might be mistaken for a human.” 

Zoe groaned at the reminder of her shift, but since the groan was muffled by her first bite of breakfast, Wade figured it was more of a token protest than an actual sound of suffering. But he still suppressed the urge to laugh at her while they sat in companionable silence (for once), her making her way through her food and him taking his sweet time sipping his coffee, making it last until she was done. 

Zoe's eyes went wide when Wade whisked the dirty dishes from in front of her. He wasn't big on chores and usually had be nagged to get any of the them. He didn't exactly do the dishes now but he set them in the sink at least and she hadn't even had to ask. She was surprised again when he returned to her side. 

"C'mon, lets get you to work." Wade said. When Zoe didn't stand he rolled his eyes and held out a hand to her. "You can't walk into town with that ankle, Doc. Didya even ice it last night? I've got my truck parked right outside. I'll drop you off on my way to the Rammer Jammer."

Wade probably thought his smile was easy, carefree. Just his usual Southern charm. But this morning she lacked her usual impatience for his smug smirk and actually looked beneath it. What she saw really shouldn't have surprised her. 

Wade was concerned. Caring. Kind. He was worried about her discomfort and wanted to do what he could to alleviate it. She wondered how she hadn't noticed it before. The way he took care of his dad. The way this town loved him despite knowing every single citizen knowing all the gossip about his antics. Wade had a lot of friends because he was a good man who looked out for those he cared about. Her heart warmed when she realized she was now a part of that group. 

It really wasn't surprising at all to find that he was special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoe is a terrible doctor for being drunk and then hungover when an entire town's health and safety are in her hands. Also every man in Bluebell is a Gentleman and I think that's canon.


End file.
